She was nothing now but softness and sorrow.

It seemed only right that some pity should be shown to her.
Dowie noticed that she did not stay up late that night and that when she went to bed she knelt a long time by her bedside saying her prayers.

Oh! What a little girl she looked, Dowie thought,--in her white night gown with her long curly plait hanging down her back tied with a blue ribbon! And she to be the mother of a child--that was no more than one herself! When all the prayers were ended and Dowie came back to the room to tuck her in, her face was marvellously still-looking and somehow remotely sweet as if she had not quite returned from some place of wonderful calm.
She nestled into the softness of the pillow with her hand under her cheek and her lids dropped quietly at once.
"Good night, Dowie dear," she murmured.

"I am going to sleep." To sleep in a moment or so Dowie saw she went--with the soft suddenness of a baby in its cradle.
But it could not be said that Dowie slept soon.

She found herself lying awake listening to the wind whirling and crying round the tower.